Kirsty's Fate
by LJ1983
Summary: What became of Kirsty Cotton following Hellseeker? Each of the following drabbles is an outcome to her fate...Some happy, some not so happy.
1. Salvation

**Kirsty's Fate**

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**Disclaimer**_**- **_I own nothing of the HR franchise. All credit goes to Clive Barker, and grudgingly _Dimension Films_. Each drabble in this fic were ideas of mine, asides from this opening one. All credit for this drabble in particular goes to 14Member. She said I could have it, since she also had a Kirsty Fate following _Hellseeker_ story but didn't know how to write out her other ideas and thought they were far too gloomy, unlike this one which is more or less a happy and romantic outcome. I'm grateful to 14Member for letting me have this drabble. :) Rated T just to be safe, but otherwise there's nothing too adult. And it is told in the first person narrative, as in Kirsty's POV. Please enjoy! ~ Laura

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**Summary**

_Not so long after the events of her husband's death, Kirsty is recalling in her diary the day she brought the man within the pinheaded Cenobite back to life, and into her heart..._

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1: Salvation

It had happened not long following Trevor's death.

To this day I will never understand how I was able to pull such a miracle.

I won't tell anybody how I'd managed to do this. I mean, with how I managed to turn _him_ - the demon - into a human again. It's too powerful of a knowledge; I've burdened myself hard enough already keeping it in my head. And if somebody else gets to know about that…I don't know, to my mind it's going to be a disaster. Anyway, I'm sure that people won't get proper use of this knowledge. That's why I won't share this with anyone, only with my diary. I have to at least write something down about that determining day.

Suffice to say, that my life's changed completely, and I hope irreversibly. Firstly, I've got to know that my dad is not in Hell for sure. That consoled me, my conscience and saved me from nightmares. Secondly, I've found the way of spending my dad's and uncle's fortune; to make fake documents for Elliot. And don't ask me where I've got them. But I did. Now I shouldn't be afraid that he might be stopped by someone in authority in the street and asked for ID, as he now has one to show.

Elliot is eager to get a job. I can't imagine what type of job he could get in this modern world with which I and everyone else on this planet takes for granted. You see, he's been absent from Earth, from humanity, for nearly ninety years and many things have changed since his time. And although I believe that he had been perfectly educated in his time, the knowledge and skills he once possessed are obsolete nowadays. So that's what I do in all my spare time; teach him to live in present time.

All day long he would sit with a notebook in his pocket and each time he hears an unfamiliar word, he would note in down and when I get home from work he would ask me about it, or search in the dictionaries himself. By the way, he loaded himself with books from my home library quite well - not only dictionaries, but encyclopedias, manuals, textbooks (especially history) and of course fiction – as well as contemporary authors of modern day fiction (I see it's easier and more pleasant for him to read) and several modern best-sellers that I carefully selected for him.

As for the technical part, he already has mastered the microwave, coffee maker, vacuum cleaner and TV. But he does not watch TV very often; he says he understands too little in modern programs. I'm leading him through the history of cinema, starting with Chaplin and Keaton's comedies and yesterday we were watching _North by Northwest_ by Alfred Hitchcock. Elliot is still afraid to approach the computer (my fault, I shouldn't have told him that it's easy to break), but when I work on it, he watches. From time to time he asks me to let him drive. I have no idea what 90-years-old cars might look like but I came to a conclusion, that if you're able to drive one of the earliest Fords you'll be hardly able to drive a modern one without crashing it to pieces. So I'm not letting him. I'd better save money for some second-hand car and send him to a good driving school.

Everything mentioned above may lead you to the thought and everything is okay and all my cares are hardly different from those of the people who take care of their coming out of coma relatives. In fact it's not true; there are problems and they are far from being usual.

You see, Elliot's mind sometimes goes blank and he starts cutting himself _'for his pleasure'_. He would simply explain to me that he just got used to it and _'without pain he's not quite himself'_. I'm tired to be hysterical about this so, when such a masochist wish comes to his mind, I just send him to bathroom to do this; there it's easier to wipe off blood at least. And don't get me started on his nightmares; my neighbours have called the police twice, having been sure that somebody was being killed in my house. From time to time he's suffered from - to be exact - epileptic fits, as the doctor had since diagnosed him as being epileptic. I wish it was just epilepsy. He says it happens each time somebody opens a puzzle box on earth, and every time he falls unconsciously on the floor. Each time this happens I'm panic-stricken - not only because the box might be opened close to us and the Cenobites could reclaim him, but also that demon inside of him might break free once more.

No, I live not with a man lost in time, I live with a powder keg ready to explode any moment. I know what I'm doing. I'm ready for the risks. Appearing in my house back that day Elliot gave me what I thought I've lost forever - the meaning of life. Since the day my uncle killed my father I only existed, like a shadow or a ghost, lost in my fears and illusions. Now I live again. And even if everything ends badly, I won't regret a minute.

The time given to us together is most important.

Now, while I'm writing all this down in my diary I'm sitting on the sofa; baseball on the TV, and Elliot is lying near me with his head curled up on my lap. He's having a quiet nap. To make a full picture of the situation some stupid and sweet romantic confessions should be added.

"Kirsty..." Elliot suddenly spoke, his voice soft and murmuring; "...did I ever tell you that I love you?"

The time itself seemed to stand still as I took in his words.

"You fraud..." I finally burst into laughter as I stroke what little of the jet black hair he has on his head. "...confess, you've read my thoughts again, haven't you?

He says nothing, just smiles mysteriously and falls back to sleep again. As I finish my diary entry here the last thing I'd like to say is that for the first time after the long, long years I see the future optimistically...

...and with the man that I love.

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**Note -** So, what do you think thus far? Good? Bad? Let me know what you think so far. ;D


	2. Guardian

_**Note**_**: **_**I hope you all enjoy the second drabble here. Sorry it took so long to write. Please note; tense switches are deliberate. This is a POV. It's a little dark so don't expect too much of a happy ending. XD.**_

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**Summary**

_Decisions, decisions. What to do with a device so powerful, so dangerous, when it's in your possession and you cannot rid of it without it coming back to you. For Kirsty Cotton, her life following the murder of her husband has took an unexpected turn and she uses the box once which entranced her as a teenager to lure in more greedy and lustful - if unwitting - fools. And all in the name of lust and desire she feels for the one who claimed her darkening soul over a decade before, and has relentlessly pursued her since...This is in Kirsty's POV._

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2: Guardian

Reasons.

They all have their own reasons.

Most are of course led by simple lust. Those naive fools think that they have tried all manner of pleasures offered by their world, and then greedily want more out of it. They are all identical; cocky, narrow-minded, rude and vicious. _Entirely. _My bastard Uncle Frank fell into this category.

For the box they are willing to give out all their money, their worldly possessions and - if they have nothing - they are more than willing to go to extreme measures; by robbing or even killing someone. But why bother? I will never touch their money, and all their 'precious' things will end in the trash can or be burned. For Cenobites, those people are like the everyday meal; you don't get any thrill from it, but just can't stop eating it.

Then there are those who are led to the box by their intelligence. We call them the 'Seekers'. Like one Doctor Channard, and _him_. They consider themselves researchers who want to discover and experience the unknown not for their own pleasure, but for the sake of some higher purpose, which sometimes they do not fully understand. Some seek out of pain or inner turmoil, just as _he _did so many years before my birth. I know of this, because _he _told me not long ago, following the luring of another soul. When dealing, they talk to me as equals, try to bargain appropriately. It may seem weird, but Hell likes those_ seekers_. A high majority of them later become Cenobites.

There are those who consider themselves a 'random victim'. They don't need the box, and don't even know why they are asking for it. I believe they are led by their curiosity. This is the only category of people whom I can hintly caution of what awaits them if they open the box. But in my experience, no-one had ever changed their minds, and sealed their fate anyway. Cenobites barely consider them are one-time fun. They are simply... _boring_.

And then there is 'family' category, when the Supplicant's relatives find the box. I fell into this category. Don't I know it?! They do not need what Hell can offer them. So they claim. They do it in _ignorance_, so _he_ told me once. In other words, they don't understand what lies beyond when they solve the box. Perhaps this is why most of them prefer to run away and pretend that their loved one is dead, not missing in action, rather than deciding at the last step. Although there are those who dare through curiosity.

Oh, and, of course, do not forget 'Cenobitics'. If you'll see them on the street, you'll think that they are just regular S&M lovers. Though in fact they are these _Cenobitics_. It's just that they consider themselves to be 'chosen' and dream of becoming real Cenobites while having no brains and no talent to even begin to fathom what Cenobites actually are or what they're dealing with. The only thing they can do is walk around in leather, having sado-masochist orgies and use vanilla perfume. The only talent they're capable of is that they can open the box when all the 'clan' is present, supplying Hell with many souls at once. Well, if quantity can compensate quality.

But how would I, Kirsty Cotton - nemesis of Hell and legendary for her bargains with demons, know of all this?

Well, it's all quite simple really.

In the many years since my husband's passing, I admit through my own hand, I have witnessed hundreds and possibly thousands in their droves of these differing kinds of souls seeking the box. This was because in my solitude, my loneliness, my descent into the dark depths of my own dark desires and lusts, I found myself..._dealing._

Dealing the _box._

Yes. In the ten years since Trevor died, I have dealt with many sinners, lost souls, S&M freaks and seekers, all craving their drug...a different and much more dangerous kind of drug.

The very first time I did my dealing it was only because I wished to be rid of the damn thing. I believed if I sold it on to whoever was most willing, the box would be gone forever...out of my life, along with _him_.

But no. It wasn't as simple as that. The box, like a boomerang, kept coming back to me, time and time again...every single time a new soul was fed to _them_. Every single encounter with _him_, _he_ would smile that usual emotionless and sneaky smile and press the incredibly warm box back into my sweaty hands. It all became clear after half a dozen souls; the Lament had elected me, chose me to find its souls.

Sinners of all creeds, sizes, ages...even sexes...seeked me out to solve the mysterious riddle that was the LeMarchand's box, because I had become - what _he_ referred to me as - the 'Guardian of the Puzzle', or the 'Puzzle Guardian' to be more precise.

Or simply as I call myself...a _Guardian_.

Usually, Guardians are lonely figures, homeless hobos with seemingly nothing of value in this world. They huddle around fires in the street trying to keep warm. They look sad, pitiful. But beneath their tatty and grubby facade they hide a terrible, inhuman secret.

Most of these are actually not human, and are in fact of more demonic origin. I should know; I seen one in action so many years ago, back when I was ignorant. They are agents for Hell on Earth, helping to lure in more souls via the box that they sell to their Supplicants.

And that is precisely what I've become, except the homeless part.

No. I lure my victims at nightclubs and bars, dressed in my finest sexy outfits and revealing bulging cleavage. I gather quite the harvest of admiring stares my way, and every night is a success. Men cannot resist me, especially when I turn on the charm. To them, I'm simply an attractive but lonely widow, seeking out comfort. If only they knew. But usually, I know it's not my seductive appearance that has enticed them in...it's the pull of the Lament Configuration, luring them to their destiny, to their fates. I am merely the web for the cunning spider to use. The Supplicants are usually the happy customer. Until they open the box and come face to face with my..._colleagues_. My..._lover._

Then the denials, the cussing, the stubbornness follows.

But it makes no difference.

By this time, I have seen the same old sickening display time and time again that I do not even look away anymore...when a soul is ripped apart, limb from limb. I have grown accustomed to the sights now. To _his _amusement and approval, I can sense.

I am in my rather spacious apartment as I deal in this latest soul...a balding middle aged alcoholic who couldn't believe his luck when he crossed my path. Of course, he had been more than willing to solve the box, but less than willing to accompany the Cenobites.

My flippancy pissed him off, but impressed my_ master_. Deep down, I know that this was what I wanted all along.

I want to impress _him._

I shudder as he nears my semi naked body, his pins tickling against my neck causing my hairs to stand up on end as he hovers behind me.

"Are you going to say no to me again, Kirsty?" I hear him purr into my ear, his deeply sensual voice making me aroused. My breasts have grown gooseflesh at this point. "Are you to again deny what is truly mine?"

I smile cunningly, victoriously, but don't attempt to make a reply.

He is right of course. This is a game, an elaborate game of chase between a predator and its prey. Deep down, I know that I want _him_, that I desire_ him_. Many times our encounters following the solving of the box have ended up as sexual encounters...and a passionate lover he is too. But to this night I steadfastly refuse to actually say aloud that I want him and what he offers me...that I want him to take me to the Labyrinth and bestow me with his sweet tortures, as he'd always promised me. Instead, I remain in stubborn denial and refuse his offer to come with him. Sure, I allow him to fuck me as he pleases most encounters. But it's my way of teasing him...so I've convinced myself.

But, that could be a fine lie. I've lied to myself for so many years.

He knows me, inside and out. And there's nothing I can do about it. But I enjoy our games together. The thrill of the chase.

And now, as I feel the sharp edge of his knife teasing against my delicate skin - with him fighting the urge to both tear me apart and 'love' me, I gracefully slide away from him and coo; "Haven't you got our _guest_ to attend to?"

He smirks, amused by my cool denial and calm attitude. He immediately shrinks away, placing his knife back onto his belt. He smiles at me before he departs back into his world...a world which I long to taste, but in the meanwhile would rather serve on the outside, in a world which I have grown so bored of.

"Farewell, my Guardian." He says to me finally after a moment of silence. "Until our next encounter. I hope our last."

And then he leaves...retreating back into that dark maze of a world.

I smirk defiantly and slip on my robe to cover up the flesh I've been exposing for all this time. I look down and notice that the blood and guts spilled from the last soul has vanished, like the torture of the man never happened or took place at all. That's one beauty about those Cenobites; they clean up the evidence without me having to worry about cleaning it up.

Despite how I've grown used to this second identity, and how I actually revel in it secretly...I sometimes catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror...and see the young girl that I used to be, the innocent girl who happened to stumble across the box and was supposedly frightened by what she saw. But now, she looks older and harder...and darker. Seductive. And I sometimes wonder...what happened to that sweet girl I used to be?

But...she's gone. She's no more of this world. She's took over by what stands in this apartment right now...practically naked and stood with the portal to Hell in her grasp. One day she will take the hand of the Dark Prince and be led to her destiny...but for now, despite what he refers to me as 'The Guardian', I am happy to be The Black Widow...


	3. Forbidden Love

**Note - **Hi again. Well, I was inspired so I thought I'd update this while I'm off college sick. |:/ Thanks so much to 14Member and Izzy for their wonderful reviews for the last drabble, _'Guardian'_. :) I'm glad you both enjoyed it. Much more to come, starting with this one. I thought we'd have an angsty forbidden love story now, after the first one was more happier and the second more dark. It probably would not have been a possible outcome for Kirsty after the film, but...it is just a little something more romantic and forbidden to indulge. XD. I've made it as dark as possible. Enjoy anyways! Keep those reviews coming. ;)

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**Summary**

_It had meant nothing, to either of them. It was only a deal. Yet, during their times together, Kirsty had become addicted to his touch...and eventually she had fallen in love with him. How could she be so stupid enough to allow herself to fall so hard for the one who had stalked her all her life? And most importantly, would he EVER feel the same for her?_

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3: Forbidden Love

It had been apart of their original deal; the exploration of flesh between them, bar hooks and chains. One night...one night of such meager human pleasures. Both had agreed on this damning of deals together, not long after she had promised him she'd gather the five souls of those that had wronged her.

Her not so beloved husband had been oblivious to the fact that she had played him at his own game, moments after he had handed her that damned box, and with the one thing he had hoped would kill her.

Kirsty Cotton had been living out her worst nightmare _and _sweetest dream simultaneously as the pinned one had dragged her into his dark embrace not even a minute after the deal was set. She could see the lust, the greed glittering in his usually inscrutable ebony eyes. They burned right through to her ever darkening soul like the fires of Hell itself, put a mark on her, made her believe she was his and his alone. His arousal had been obvious from the very moment he had touched her. So had hers. Those strong and powerful arms had engulfed her delicately female frame as his lips had ravaged hers. She had no choice but to submit to his desires, running her hands along his strong shoulders, along a surprisingly muscular body that was hidden under a layer of thick leather, as his probing tongue - cool as ice - teased her inner mouth.

Before she had known it, Kirsty's clothes were discarded along the stone floors, along with his. His oddly desirable body, so strong and muscular, had only served to drive her further into the darkest part of her soul.

And with each kiss, each thrust, Kirsty had fell deeper; deeper for her need for revenge, her need for _him_...

She had not known it, but Kirsty Cotton had allowed herself to become addicted to his touch, to his most unholy desires, to the otherworldly and powerful love making. He might have been a Hell dweller...but the sex had been something very heavenly indeed.

So, following the death of her cheating rat of a husband by her own hand, Kirsty kept returning to the pinned one - night after night, for the forbidden meeting of their flesh. He had been the dangerous drug she so craved, she couldn't live without those masculine hands tearing at her clothes and caressing every inch of her. Kissing her...ravaging her...taking her hard...She needed it all like the air she breathed.

It hadn't meant anything though of course, she had reasoned with herself. It was just sex. Just something to keep him satisfied. He had lusted her flesh for so long, after all, and this was the nearest thing he was going to get in terms of exploring every curve and inch of her flesh.

Or so she had thought.

In reality, she had broken the number one rule she had set for herself after her latest broken heart; _Never_ fall in love. _Ever _again.

And she had...oh she had fallen hard. So _very_ hard.

For _him_...that cursed pinned Cenobite who had stalked and chased her, corrupted her very soul...

She had cursed herself for this. Why did it have to be him? He wasn't exactly Prince Charming when it came down to the bare facts. Oh no. He was a blood lusting torture loving demon. He merely lusted to tear her apart. There was no way they could live happily ever after.

Or...then again, why not? He had once been human. He had protected her not once, not twice...but thrice He had saved her from those who threatened harm upon her. She had looked into the eyes of the man he had been so long ago; they were so kind, so genuine, so..._loving. _It wasn't too much of a stretch to believe that he had been a good human being, so much like herself, before he became corrupted.

She had kept that in mind during their latest coupling.

It was a full year after Trevor's death, and those murders.

They were writhing together in his chambers, in the very Labyrinth. On his magnificent Kingsize bed, which came complete with silken sheets fit for Royalty. It was comfortable, considering where they were. Chains and hooks played around them, tinkling their uneven and unsettling rhythm as he took her, over and over again.

"Oh Xipe..." She whispered his demon name over and over again as she moaned and arched her back, meeting his powerful thrusts. He kissed her beautiful breasts, her flawless, perfect torso and flat stomach. Kirsty touched him, running her fingers across his back, stroking the biceps in his arms and powerful shoulders, his head tilting back with pleasure with each caress. She felt those bloody wounds and scars under her fingertips as they travelled every length and breadth of his chest; so many scars.

Her heart sank in feeling such sadness for him, in trying to imagine the pain he endured when he acquired those scars and wounds. They looked painful, but he didn't seem like he was in pain. If he had, then he had a good way of hiding it. He was so strong, she thought. But this wasn't fair, wasn't right. She longed to save him, save him from this Hell. But, she had sighed to herself, it was most likely impossible to do so. He was apart of this realm, forever, whether he wanted it or not.

Then, her thought process was interrupted as his strong thrusts became much faster, much more powerful than before. He pounded her as harder as he had ever done before, making her scream into oblivion.

"You are right; you cannot save me, Kirsty..." He told her rather abruptly, making her eyes snap open. She gazed right into his coal eyes questioningly as his thrusts continued to grow more powerful with each second passed. Obviously, he could hear her thoughts as simply in her head as if she had spoken them by her lips.

"I was damned so long ago. There is no hope for me...and neither is there for you." He went on, his hands caressing her glistening breasts as he spoke.

"We don't know unless we try." She countered rather bravely and determinedly. "Channard changed you back, remember? There's a way, I know it...It doesn't have to be this way, we-"

She was unprepared for his hand to shoot out and grasp a hold of her throat. He gave a little squeeze, aiming to assert his dominance over her. She gasped at the tightness of his hold, his inhuman strength, staring into his eyes pleadingly. He stared back with eyes as calm and fathomless as pure marble. It was unsettling. But despite that obvious threat, it simply just made her want him more,_ love _him more...

"No." He hissed urgently at her. "I ceased to live and breathe as your kind so long ago. There is no way back. And it is time for you to share in my fate!"

As the pinned one spoke to her, it did nothing to slow his thrusts. In fact, his pace grew quicker and more urgent. His hand still squeezed her throat, making her choke under his strength. She threw her head back against the silk pillow, obviously still aroused, screaming as her climax came ever closer.

And just as he released himself into her, as his dark and almost evil looking eyes glared down at her and his hand squeezed harder, she let slip an eternally damned confession which not only shook the bowels of Hell but him also...

"...I LOVE YOU!"

Her eyes had been closed during the confession, as he had peaked, as his thrusts had started to lessen. But when she opened them, she had met with his eyes, a pair of dark eyes which stared down to her questioningly. Confusedly.

She hadn't meant for it to come out the way it did, nor did she ever want to confess her feelings for him. But she just could not help it. His thrusts, his painful hold upon her throat, the overwhelming pleasure that had been building up...the confession, the truth of her love for him, had managed to escape her lips during a moment where she had lost control of her own self, her own body, her mind...and her soul.

Kirsty gazed upon him, not once tearing her eyes away, hoping he would finally say something. He stared back, his eyes as inscrutable as ever, and not a murmur passing his icy lips. She grew more uncomfortable as the seconds passed by, not knowing what he was thinking, or even plotting.

Was he going to kill her? Punish her? Flay her?

In a way, she did not care. Whatever he was going to do to her, she didn't mind, just so long as he did it and she was with him.

Her heart pounded so hard she felt it would escape her chest, and tears blurred her vision.

Finally, after what felt to be such an age, he left her embrace, left her body, and rose from the bed. He stared down to her, face as passive as ever. Then he finally spoke; "Love?" He chuckled humourlessly, his leather uniform magically appearing back on his body, covering his nakedness. "Love is but a whimsical, flawed emotion, Kirsty. Many have died for love, some have endured such pain, many have killed in the name of it. It is such a dangerous emotion, yet your kind continue to hold it in such high esteem. The suffering from one such emotion...it can be exquisite."

A fat tear rolled down her cheek as he spoke those words. "Maybe." She said. "All I know is that it's broke down the barrier I fought so hard to keep up. My love for you...it's made me weak. And now all I wanna do is be with you."

A sadistic smile spread across his lips, but there was also something in his eyes, something foreign. Something she hadn't seen before. It was longing, but it was a different kind of longing. "Are you saying you want to finally yeild to me, Kirsty? To submit to Hell and my kind? You would finally give yourself to me?"

She didn't speak for a while, but the demon could see that he had finally broke her spirit, her protective barrier. She was finally giving in. He presented his hand to her, and calmly awaited her next move.

She could simply do nothing but stare to the offered hand. She was still unsure, but what she felt for him - it goaded her on. Pushing her to her destiny.

With a slight sigh, Kirsty slowly raised her hand and inch by inch, drew it closer to his. Eventually, their palms touched, and their hands closed within each other's...

And as her body was torn asunder and remade to resemble his much later on, Xipe Totec stared to the Cenobittic Transformation Chamber his lover was currently screaming and writhing in, the very place she was being reborn in. He reached out, his hand gently smoothing across the patterned surface as Kirsty underwent her transformation.

Nobody saw, not even his God, as his dark and usually emotionless eyes glinted with such pain, and misted over with tears as he stared at the chamber.

Barely whispering, no one could hear the startling revelation which he would keep to himself and share with no one else...not even her. If he did, then he surely would be showing weakness. But he could not help it slipping out just this once.

"I love you, too, my sweet Kirsty." He sighed.

~ The End ~

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**Note - **Ok, ok; I know it probably wouldn't happen like this, and I know Kirsty's much stronger than this, but we don't know for sure what happened after _Hellseeker_. She may have caved. Who knows? This is simply a different take on how she could have submitted to him. She could have fallen for him, it's not too much of a stretch to believe. After all, he was human, and she did have a thing for him no matter which way you look it at. ;) Hope you enjoyed anyway. I enjoyed writing it. Hope it made sense. XD. Thanks for reading!


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